


Of Smoke, Stars, and Sunrises

by orphan_account



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: 3AM feels, Comfort/Angst, Light Angst, Loneliness, Other, Smoking, Stargazing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 23:55:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29216046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Two insomniacs, a porch, a cigarette, and a night of stars.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Wilbur Soot
Kudos: 19





	Of Smoke, Stars, and Sunrises

The plumes of smoke unfurled before the British boy, who watched the cloud with interest as he exhaled the puff he’d just taken. Cigarette held loose between his fingers, gently tapping the end and letting ash fall onto the deck he was seated on, the brunette looked out at the stars as the grey vapour wafted from his vision. One in particular caught his gaze, steady, not twinkling, brighter than the rest. Jupiter, maybe? He raised the cigarette to his lips as he continued to stare intently at the unidentified planet, taking a long drag, resisting the urge to cough at the burning feeling of smoke invading his lungs. 

If he were being completely honest, he hated smoking. It tasted like shit, felt like shit, and solved none of his problems. Yet he always ended up here at least once every few months, outside in the dead of the night, a pack in his pocket, and the cold weight of a lighter in the other. 

The Brit had always felt cold, empty, and alone, and the smoking filled him with a warmth. Not a good one, a warmth that burned him from the inside out, but it was a warmth nonetheless. Something to fill the emptiness aside from self deprecating thoughts.

It wasn’t an addiction, more a sporadic distraction, allowing him to forget about his problems for a moment, smoke scalding as he breathed it in and just as bad as he exhaled. He could just sit, alone, and ignore his thoughts for once as they grew too rampant for him to handle. As shitty as the smoking may feel, it worked.

Except this time it was riskier. No one could see him smoking in the safety of his own home, but now he was here, staying in an airbnb with more than half the SMP, none of which knew he’d ever even touched a cigarette in his life. Usually he’d be a lot more worried that someone would find him, but insomnia had truly bested him this trip. With only a total 5 hours of sleep over 3 days, there wasn’t much room to feel anything more than exhaustion. Yet despite the heavy weight of sleep deprivation settling over his shoulders, trying to force his body to slump and eyes to close, he knew he’d be awake all night again, brain forcing him to overthink anything and everything he could think of.

So he just took another drag, letting the sting in his lungs overpower whatever damned thing was on his mind now. At this point the thoughts weren’t even coherent to himself, but they were still thoughts, and he was still very awake, and he just wanted his brain to shut up. He’d been in this state for almost the entire trip, and so he smoked, the only coping method he had, although a bad one.

“Didn’t know you smoked.”

Came a quizzical voice from behind him. He would’ve jumped normally, but the tiredness filled his bones like lead, rooting him in place. He turned to see a dirty blonde male, jaw length hair framing his freckled face, emerald green eyes watching him with question. He blinked slowly for a moment, before turning back to the night sky, inhaling another breath of smoke as he contemplated an answer. He heard the Floridian sit beside him as he blew acrid fumes into the cool, once pristine, nighttime breeze.

“I don’t really.”

The curly haired male glanced over to find the other watching him with an eyebrow quirked, the barest hint of a smile tugging on the corners of his lips. 

“There’s a cigarette in your hand as we speak.”

“It’s a rare occurrence.”

“How rare is rare?”

“Once every few months or so. Whenever I get stressed, I suppose. I really hate it if I’m being honest.”

“What, smoking?”

“Mhm.”

The conversation fell silent for a few moments, both parties enjoying the silence, atmosphere not awkward, but comfortable, the brunette taking a few more drags.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“About what?”

“Whatever’s stressing you out.”

A sigh fell from his lips, this time devoid of smoke, continuing to stare wistfully at the dark sky dotted with stars before them.

“No.”

The Brit said simply. He’d never been an open person, preferring to bottle up the emotion rather than share it, problems always being easier to deal with on his own. Sure, he was lonely, but that was no one's fault but his own, so he couldn’t complain. Thankfully, the blonde accepted his answer rather than pushing him for more.

“You got another?”

He glanced back at him with the same look of question the Floridian had worn a moment ago, a small smile almost spreading at the irony.

“Didn’t know you smoked.”

The blonde rolled his eyes, although a grin had formed on his lips. Under the moonlight he looked even more handsome, sharp jawline, button nose, soft lips, and eyes which always gave him a strong, determined look. Studying him now, though, the Brit could see the American had the same dark bags under his eyes that he was sure he wore himself. Maybe the blonde was in the same position as he was, unable to sleep for the life of him, which was more than likely now he thought about it, considering he was awake and out on the porch at 3am just like he was.

“I don’t anymore. I had a phase, back when I was an angsty teen.”

“Fair.”

The taller dug through his coat pocket, pulling out the pack, which he now realised was empty. 

“No, I don’t. We can share this, if you want.”

He said, offering the half smoked cigarette to the other, who took it with a shrug and took a long drag, coughing slightly as it’d been a while since he’d last done it.

“I hate it too if I’m being honest.”

“Smoking?”

“Yeah. Always have. Not sure why I ever did. Not sure why I’m doing it now, to be honest.”

“Neither.”

The Brit watched the American take a few more puffs, before passing it back over. 

They spent the next half hour in a similar fashion, little, if any at all, conversation being shared between the two. Eventually the cigarette burned too small to continue, so the brunette stubbed it out on the porch, but he didn’t make any move to get up and head back inside. The shorter studied him, watching his sad brown eyes stare into the distance, fixated on something far out in the stars, until he broke the silence.

“You look lonely.”

The older glanced over, but his eyes quickly flitted away again, chapped lips twisting into a pitiful smile, before falling as a dejected sigh escaped.

“Maybe I am.”

There was a pause, before a weight dropped onto the Brit’s shoulder. Usually he’d tense up, freeze, so touch starved any brief moment of contact made him flinch, but he couldn’t. He was so tired, so, so sick of being awake, there wasn’t a single ounce of energy left for him to react. Besides, no matter how much he hated to admit it, the gentle pressure of a head resting against him was nice.

“You don’t have to be.”

A hand was interlacing with his own, fingers locking and giving a gentle squeeze, which he returned. The soft motion of a thumb tracing circles on the back of his palm was incredibly grounding, exhaustion finally hitting in full force. His eyelids drooped, body sagged, head coming to rest atop a blonde’s.

“We can be lonely together.”

“We can be lonely together.”

The brunette confirmed, voice now a sluggish whisper. So there they sat, two insomniacs, watching the sun rise over the horizon.

And there they were found, after a night of smoke, stars, and sunrises. Lying next to each other, asleep on wood planks of a porch well into the morning, hands still laced tightly together, with a cigarette bud tossed somewhere nearby.

\----

Word Count: 1333


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